When Ellis, after this rebuff, had disconsolately taken his leave,
Clara, much elated at the righteous punishment she had inflicted upon
the slanderer, ran upstairs to the nursery, and, snatching Dodie from
Mammy Jane's arms, began dancing gayly with him round the room.
"Look a-hyuh, honey," said Mammy Jane, "you better be keerful wid dat
chile, an' don' drap 'im on de flo'. You might let him fall on his head
an' break his neck. My, my! but you two does make a pretty pictur'!
You'll be wantin' ole Jane ter come an' nuss yo' child'en some er dese
days," she chuckled unctuously.
Mammy Jane had been very much disturbed by the recent dangers through
which little Dodie had passed; and his escape from strangulation, in the
first place, and then from the knife had impressed her as little less
than miraculous. She was not certain whether this result had been
brought about by her manipulation of the buried charm, or by the prayers
which had been offered for the child, but was inclined to believe that
both had cooperated to avert the threatened calamity. The favorable
outcome of this particular incident had not, however, altered the
general situation. Prayers and charms, after all, were merely temporary
things, which must be constantly renewed, and might be forgotten or
overlooked; while the mole, on the contrary, neither faded nor went
away. If its malign influence might for a time seem to disappear, it was
merely lying dormant, like the germs of some deadly disease, awaiting
its opportunity to strike at an unguarded spot.
Clara and the baby were laughing in great glee, when a mockingbird,
perched on the topmost bough of a small tree opposite the nursery
window, burst suddenly into song, with many a trill and quaver. Clara,
with the child in her arms, sprang to the open window.
"Sister Olivia," she cried, turning her face toward Mrs. Carteret, who
at that moment entered the room, "come and look at Dodie."
The baby was listening intently to the music, meanwhile gurgling with
delight, and reaching his chubby hands toward the source of this
pleasing sound. It seemed as though the mockingbird were aware of his
appreciative audience, for he ran through the songs of a dozen different
birds, selecting, with the discrimination of a connoisseur and entire
confidence in his own powers, those which were most difficult and most
alluring.
Mrs. Carteret approached the window, followed by Mammy Jane, who waddled
over to join the admiring party. So absorbed were the three women in the
baby and the bird that neither one of them observed a neat top buggy,
drawn by a sleek sorrel pony, passing slowly along the street before the
house. In the buggy was seated a lady, and beside her a little boy,
dressed in a child's sailor suit and a straw hat. The lady, with a
wistful expression, was looking toward the party grouped in the open
window.
Mrs. Carteret, chancing to lower her eyes for an instant, caught the
other woman's look directed toward her and her child. With a glance of
cold aversion she turned away from the window.
Old Mammy Jane had observed this movement, and had divined the reason
for it. She stood beside Clara, watching the retreating buggy.
"Uhhuh!" she said to herself, "it's huh sister Janet! She ma'ied a
doctuh, an' all dat, an' she lives in a big house, an' she's be'n roun'
de worl' an de Lawd knows where e'se: but Mis' 'Livy don' like de sight
er her, an' never will, ez long ez de sun rises an' sets. Dey ce't'nly
does favor one anudder,--anybody mought 'low dey wuz twins, ef dey didn'
know better. Well, well! Fo'ty yeahs ago who'd 'a' ever expected ter
see a nigger gal ridin' in her own buggy? My, my! but I don' know,--I
don' know! It don' look right, an' it ain' gwine ter las'!--you can't
make me b'lieve!"
Meantime Janet, stung by Mrs. Carteret's look,--the nearest approach she
had ever made to a recognition of her sister's existence,--had turned
away with hardening face. She had struck her pony sharply with the whip,
much to the gentle creature's surprise, when the little boy, who was
still looking back, caught his mother's sleeve and exclaimed
excitedly:--
"Look, look, mamma! The baby,--the baby!"
Janet turned instantly, and with a mother's instinct gave an involuntary
cry of alarm.
At the moment when Mrs. Carteret had turned away from the window, and
while Mammy Jane was watching Janet, Clara had taken a step forward, and
was leaning against the window-sill. The baby, convulsed with delight,
had given a spasmodic spring and slipped from Clara's arms.
Instinctively the young woman gripped the long skirt as it slipped
through her hands, and held it tenaciously, though too frightened for an
instant to do more. Mammy Jane, ashen with sudden dread, uttered an
inarticulate scream, but retained self-possession enough to reach down
and draw up the child, which hung dangerously suspended, head downward,
over the brick pavement below.
"Oh, Clara, Clara, how could you!" exclaimed Mrs. Carteret
reproachfully; "you might have killed my child!"
She had snatched the child from Jane's arms, and was holding him closely
to her own breast. Struck by a sudden thought, she drew near the window
and looked out. Twice within a few weeks her child had been in serious
danger, and upon each occasion a member of the Miller family had been
involved, for she had heard of Dr. Miller's presumption in trying to
force himself where he must have known he would be unwelcome.
Janet was just turning her head away as the buggy moved slowly off.
Olivia felt a violent wave of antipathy sweep over her toward this
baseborn sister who had thus thrust herself beneath her eyes. If she had
not cast her brazen glance toward the window, she herself would not have
turned away and lost sight of her child. To this shameless intrusion,
linked with Clara's carelessness, had been due the catastrophe, so
narrowly averted, which might have darkened her own life forever. She
took to her bed for several days, and for a long time was cold toward
Clara, and did not permit her to touch the child.
Mammy Jane entertained a theory of her own about the accident, by which
the blame was placed, in another way, exactly where Mrs. Carteret had
laid it. Julia's daughter, Janet, had been looking intently toward the
window just before little Dodie had sprung from Clara's arms. Might she
not have cast the evil eye upon the baby, and sought thereby to draw him
out of the window? One would not ordinarily expect so young a woman to
possess such a power, but she might have acquired it, for this very
purpose, from some more experienced person. By the same reasoning, the
mockingbird might have been a familiar of the witch, and the two might
have conspired to lure the infant to destruction. Whether this were so
or not, the transaction at least wore a peculiar look. There was no use
telling Mis' 'Livy about it, for she didn't believe, or pretended not
to believe, in witchcraft and conjuration. But one could not be too
careful. The child was certainly born to be exposed to great
dangers,--the mole behind the left ear was an unfailing sign,--and no
precaution should be omitted to counteract its baleful influence.
While adjusting the baby's crib, a few days later, Mrs. Carteret found
fastened under one of the slats a small bag of cotton cloth, about half
an inch long and tied with a black thread, upon opening which she found
a few small roots or fibres and a pinch of dried and crumpled herbs. It
was a good-luck charm which Mammy Jane had placed there to ward off the
threatened evil from the grandchild of her dear old mistress. Mrs.
Carteret's first impulse was to throw the bag into the fire, but on
second thoughts she let it remain. To remove it would give unnecessary
pain to the old nurse. Of course these old negro superstitions were
absurd,--but if the charm did no good, it at least would do no harm.